Pierced
by JMarieAllenPoe
Summary: Emma Overland is nearly seven years old when her mother almost forces her to get her ears pierced without Emma's approval. Although Jack manages to save her, the memory has lasting effects. Brief mention of Hijack. One-Shot. Emma's POV. Modern AU.


**Author's Note: ****This one-shot only directly features Jack and Emma, but since Hijack is mentioned at the end, I decided upload this as a crossover. I hope you don't mind.**

**If you feel that the rating is inappropriate, _please_ tell me so I can change it.**

**Please enjoy. Feedback is very much appreciated!**

**J. Marie Allen Poe**

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"Pierced**"**

A One-Shot

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I remembered more of this day than I probably should. Mom decided to take my brother Jack and I to the giant mall a few towns over, in Berk. There was no school today for some reason I am unable to remember. It was a week before my next birthday. I was six years old. Jack was eleven.

We just left the Build-A-Bear Workshop. I got a gray stuffed bunny named E. Aster Bunnymund, and Jack got a tan stuffed bear named Sandy. They were very cute, and Jack and I were very happy with our new friends, even if it took a little persuasion to have Jack get his.

It was midday, time for lunch, so we went to the food court on the second floor, which consisted of a dozen different eateries available. A grand carousel was in the center of it all. Mom promised we could ride it after we ate. She bought us the type of cheat mall pizza and ice cream that, looking back, wasn't anything special. While we stuffed our faces, Jack and I hugged our new, soft, nonverbal toys. Jack lightly pulled on one of my brown braids to get my attention while he chewed, he swallowed, and he whispered, "How long do ya think Mom is gonna make us wait?" He looked over towards the merry-go-round.

"I dunno, Jack." I also gazed longingly towards the carousel, which rotated at a leisurely pace. "Hey, Mom?" I called towards the other end of our sticky table. Mom looked up from her cell phone with a smile. "When can we go on the ride?" She cast a glimpse at her watch, then at the carousel, then back at her watch.

She held her breath as if trying to make a split-second decision while she inhaled and said, "Well, it just started, so the next ride won't be ready for another ten minutes."

My brother and I deflated with soft-spoken statements of disappointment.

"But," Mom cheerfully continued, "I was thinking we check out that stand over there while we wait." She pointed towards a stand not very far from the carousel. It was in the middle of some beauty product stores. It sold jewelry—earrings. I didn't notice it before.

"_Then_ we can go on the ride?" Jack whined, begged.

"Yes," Mom assured.

We threw away our garbage, grabbed our purchases, and made our way over to the earring stand. Two women ran it, both about Mom's age, maybe younger. They smiled and greeted us with practiced charm and business sparkling in their eyes. One of the women gushed about how _cute _and _adorable_ Jack and I were in our grey color-coordinated outfits, and Jack and I said a mandatory "thank you" in unison upon seeing our mother's pointed stare. My brother stood next to a potted plant and looked in the direction of the merry-go-round, not interested in this excursion at all, wanting Mom to hurry up, I was sure. The other woman asked if we were interested in getting our ears pierced at all today. She waved a white gadget in her hand that scared me; it looked like a gun.

Mom stopped herself from putting a pair of large, sapphire blue earrings back on the rack—so her hand just stayed suspended in mid air. She took a moment to think this question over, moving her closed lips as if she physically moved her answer around in her mouth and was wondering if she liked the taste of it. She looked back at me. I saw a glimmer of something in her eye for just a second, but I couldn't tell what it meant.

"Actually," Mom finally decided, replacing the blue earrings in her grasp with ones I couldn't see, "Emma will be getting her ears pierced today. It's her birthday next week and—and this will be one of her presents."

I stared up at my mom, suddenly wide-eyed, confused and scared. We never had a conversation before about me getting my ears pierced. Not once. I had seen other girls get their ears pierced at places like Wal-Mart, and they always cried and screamed, so it must have hurt really bad. I stared at the white gun still in one of the women's grasp. My lip began to tremble. I shook my head.

I tugged on my mother's sweater, but she wouldn't look down at me. She just kept talking to the two saleswoman about earrings and prices. "M-Mo-Mom," I stuttered weakly, "No…No…I don't want to. I don't wanna get my ears pierced." I looked desperately towards Jack, who seems confused like me.

I didn't want to_. I didn't want to!_

I pulled on Mom's clothing again. "No. I'm scared it-it'll hurt! I don't want it to hurt…" Mom quickly grabbed my wrist in her big hand and didn't let go. She still smiled brightly at the women. Her grip reminded me of a tight handcuff. I still tried to sway her: "I don't even like earrings all that much, Mama."

Jack stood on my other side and asked, "Why does she have to get her ears pierced?" but no one heard or cared to answer him. _I didn't want earrings._

Mom positioned me closer to the booth, let go of my hand, and the two workers attempted to engage me in their sales pitch, showing me different earrings. One of the two women working explained to me that I needed to wear a certain kind when the piercing was first done, but I could pick a fun pair for later, when the holes in my ears were healed and I could change out the earrings, which took about six weeks. I rejected all of the pairs shown to me with a disinterested shake of my head and a deep frown on my face.

"I don't want my ears pierced," I stated again. "I don't want to wear earrings."

The three adults glanced at each other with conspiratorial smiles. Then they all crouched and bent over so I could look into each of their eyes.

The carousel's happy music stopped. We should have been getting on the ride soon, like Mom promised. _She promised._

One of the workers, who I noticed had firetruck-red hair in a braid, swore, "You will look so nice!"

"All the other girls you know wear earrings!" Mom claimed as she squeezed my wrist—although I sincerely doubted this, looking back.

"The pain isn't bad," promised the other worker, who had hair so blonde it looked white.

Still, I didn't want to get my ears pierced. Lip trembling, I looked back at Jack; he glared at the women with eyebrows pushed together in what I thought to be annoyance. Maybe anger. I knew _he _didn't want me to get earrings if I didn't.

They didn't care that I didn't want earrings—my _mom_ didn't care. They didn't care that I was afraid of the pain. Regardless of my feelings, they were going to pierce my ears. I didn't want the scary white gun near my head! Despite my best attempts to stay calm, the worst possible thing happened.

I started crying.

Mom and the two younger ladies all cooed at me for a moment, saying things like, "It's okay, you'll feel better after your ears are pierced. Don't cry. You'll look so much nicer with earrings. Trust us."

This only made me cry harder, and soon I produced a muted sob, a violent shriek.

"I DON'T WANT MY EARS PIERCED!"

Mom leaned down and forced me to look her in the eye. Quietly, rigidly, she hissed, "That's _enough_, Emma. You need to stop it. Right now. You're embarrassing me."

I tried to stop crying, I _did_, but it was nearly impossible. I was so scared! One of the workers got the gun ready, and I couldn't breath. My mind raced, _I don't want them. Please, please, please, don't make me get them!_

Jack's hands tugged me behind him, and then he was in front of Mom, guarding me. He yelled, "She doesn't _want _her ears pierced! LEAVE HER ALONE!" Jack _never_ yelled. Jack was always trying to have fun and make people smile. Now he was snarling. He pulled me away from the stand, towards the carousel, and our mother had no choice but to chase after us.

The ride was almost ready to go again, but Jack and I managed to get on while Mom angrily paid the fifty cents. I mounted a blue horse that was more reminiscent of a seahorse-dragon, and Jack got on a white stallion next to me. After about a minute, the ride began moving and playing happy music.

I knew Mom would be mad and yell at me on the way home, but for now, I let the ride calm me down a bit.

Happy Seventh Birthday to me.

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I wished that day at the mall wasn't so memorable. It seems like we subconsciously hold onto any sad or embarrassing memories we've obtained over time and barely allow ourselves to keep the good ones.

I was older now, much older than six-going-on-seven, and I was at a mall again. A friend was with me, and we were going Christmas shopping. I somehow managed, despite the anxiety that always overtook me whenever I visited a store—I felt like I never belonged in the Shopping World; I was just awkward. I had already bought Jack a blue-knit sweater and an Elton John CD. I bought a personalized coffee mug for Hiccup too. He's Jack's long-term boyfriend. My friend and I had a bet going on who was going to propose first. My money was on Hiccup. We were driving back to Burgess in a few days to give them the gifts. I missed them so much, especially Jack. It would be good to talk to him. I hadn't talked to him since the summer.

My friend and I just ate at a café in the mall. A booth was placed near where we sat, selling earrings and giving piercings for an overcharged fee. I saw a little girl get her ears pierced without her desire or consent, and she wailed, causing a scene. No one stepped in to tell the mother off or to offer their opinion on the matter. Not the two old men next to us who watched on in horror, not even me. It was like I was watching my six-year-old self. Except after the little girl's mother said, "—embarrassing me," two short screams penetrated the air as the gun penetrated the girl's ears. No one helped her. She didn't have a loving big brother to rescue her.

People are taught at an early age that no doesn't really mean no. It means persuade, bully, manipulate, force. It means yes. My fingertips kissed one of my puncture-free earlobes, overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for what Jack, my dear older brother, did for me that day. I didn't have to learn—grow up believing—that _no_ does not mean _no_ because he stepped in and helped me. I almost started to cry over my milkshake, but I held it in. My friend and I shared a sorrowful glance, and we both looked away.

My hands shook as my heart was pierced with resentment.

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**Author's Note: Thank you so very much for reading! I am very grateful! :3**

**This one-shot is based off of a chapter from the novel I am writing, with the characters changed to Jack and his sister, Emma, and a few details changed accordingly. The chapter, in turn, was inspired by a Tumblr post that basically talked about how there are some norms in our culture that cause people to grow up believing that "no" does not really mean "no." This is an example of that.**

**Also, this one-shot is a little bit personal to me because I do not have my ears pierced, nor do I want them to be pierced, but my mom is always on my case about it, saying I'd be prettier with them and blah blah blah. (Not that I resent people who like getting piercings. It's just not my thing. To each their own!)**

**Feel free to share your thoughts!**


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